


The Alpha Fallacy

by five5sixers



Category: Bloody Roar
Genre: Angst, Cameos, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Mild Blood, Mild Language, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21535009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/five5sixers/pseuds/five5sixers
Summary: The Zoanthrope Liberation Front's leader thought the title of Alpha fit him quite nicely... but maybe he was only fooling himself.
Kudos: 4





	The Alpha Fallacy

**Author's Note:**

> A third person account from Shenlong's perspective, regarding his experiences and rationale behind the ZLF and himself.

Liberation…

That was their core tenet. 

At first their group was small, with less than fifty advocates to their name. In time they had amassed hundreds nationally and boasted thousands beyond their borders, all huddled together under the banner of a right so simple, so ingrained in nature that of course only humans would dare infringe upon it: the right to exist.

In the wake of Tylon’s destruction, fear gripped the world. 

For most that fear was sparked by sudden powerlessness. Humans were not at the top of the food chain as they believed for countless centuries, and the only reason they remained blissfully unaware until that precise moment was because these beasts made the collective decision to hide away in shadows. For zoanthropes, their fear came from knowing exactly the kinds of atrocities humans committed against their own kind, because of differences as meaningless as country and creed, or as petty as the color of their skin.

Hiding was no longer an option. Whether the individual beast came forward or not, they would see first hand how hateful humans were. 

It was barely a week after the initial broadcast that the first Beast Hunters took to the streets. Humans armed themselves in whatever ways they could manage, escalating from bats, to shovels, to guns. Claims of self defense were rampant ins pite of the numbers; hardly any of them had ever been personally targeted by the violence they wished to end. These people were nothing more than nervous reactionaries clinging to some semblance of control in their pitiful lives.

Worse were the fringe groups of humans, already on the edges of polite society, who reveled in rattling the cages of their own people. Lowlifes went out of their way to snatch up animal masks and scare other humans, whether their goal was to take advantage of the fear, worsen zoanthrope reputation, or simply for the thrill. Regardless of their motivations, more coverage was offered to the hunting parties who accidentally killed these humans over the rising body count of zoanthropes across the globe.

It made him sick.

Anger boiled his blood and hatred tightened his muscles. His people were dying and he refused to let them go without a fight.

The Zoanthrope Liberation Front was born to protect against these extremists. Himself and a handful of others fought back against the Hunters and it gave their dejected people hope to stand in kind.

That was where the name Alpha came from. 

Packs of animals were not hundreds strong, and neither were they - not at first. In the beginning this was to preserve anonymity; he lead the charge so he was Alpha, those who followed carried the title Beta. Overtime the title felt more fitting. An alpha was not simply the head of a given pack, that status was earned and maintained through displays of superior physical strength and cultivated alliances.

He had strength in spades and the cunning to match. Local police forces could never get their hands on him or collect any identifying information, and the Liberation Front’s outreach spread from just their city to the entire country in a matter of months. After a single year, they were as multinational as the pharmaceutical company that caused all of their turmoil.

The man known only as Alpha became a larger than life figure among zoanthropes. He was a ghost, a phantom that embodied everything humans feared about these beasts, who stood as a beacon which drew zoanthropes to their cause with the promise of survival. They called him a great man because he put himself in harm’s way to shelter any zoanthrope endangered by the trappings of human society. He stood in the face of violence and oppression so that others like him would be spared. With each spark of gratitude earned, more zoanthropes rallied around him in awe and reverence, raising the pedestal that much higher.

Their leader knew the dark side of humanity and it disgusted him. What he could not understand, what tore him up inside, were zoanthropes who refused to fight against that darkness. 

Too often since the group’s inception had he encountered beasts who denied their cause. Some wished only to be left alone, still too fearful of drawing attention to themselves. Others, few at first, decried their methods. Too violent. Too hateful.

 _“They are killing us!”_ he roared, but they wouldn't listen.

Zoanthrope ignorance to the carnage at human hands was willful. They wanted to pretend that their brothers and sisters were not dying in the streets, but how could they be so blind to the suffering around them? How could they see the blood dripping from human hands and not understand it was their own?

“It’s like Seligman.”

Doctor Busuzima Hajime was once a top researcher for the Tylon Corporation. He was one of the only scientists from the pharmaceutical company who came out of their experiments as a zoanthrope himself. He was also one of the Liberation Front's earliest advocates and personal donors. The chameleon zoanthrope's support earned him a seat as the ZLF's head researcher and much respect throughout the organization, despite his more eccentric habits.

Shenlong stood in the observation room with the commanding presence expected of an alpha. 

“I’m not familiar.” 

Busuzima swiveled in his desk chair. He was perched pretzel-legged before a console of monitors, a container of takeout udon in one hand. When their eyes met, Busuzima raised his chopsticks and pointed at their leader.

“This guy, Seligman, set up an experiment with a buncha dogs in crates. He shocked their l’il paws with electricity but had ‘em harnessed in so they couldn’t escape, so they’re clawin’ and wailin’ but they can’t get away no matter what they do. Eventually he lets the pups outta their harness and he keeps shocking ‘em, but they don’t even try to get out. They still think they’re stuck.”

There was a brief pause while Busuzima funneled noodles into his mouth. 

“You’re saying zoanthropes were _trained_ to resist taking action?” That word soured on Shenlong’s tongue more than he anticipated. 

Trained, like house pets.

“You got it, chief.” Busuzima turned back to face the monitors. “Humans work the same way, y’know. Do it to themselves all the time. All our brains got wiring for that kinda conditioning, s’no surprise it’s true for zoanthropes.”

Then there was no ignorance after all, not about this. Human oppression was simply far more insidious than Shenlong first realized. 

Where once he thought his brethren had deluded themselves, he now saw the leashes around their necks. Their pleas to be accepted by humans who wanted nothing less than to skin them alive was not a conscious decision, but the result of chains which bound them to a society built on contempt.

Now he understood that he would have to liberate these pitiful beasts from their own helplessness, no matter how they resisted.

That was his duty as their Alpha.

Over time their efforts became more militant in the public eye. News coverage that once labeled the ZLF as a resistance movement decried them as a terrorist organization. This sinking reputation did not bother Shenlong; it told him that humans were afraid, which only confirmed that their methods worked.

Humans were fools, still in abject denial about their own genetic ties to animals, that wrongfully believed themselves superior to all other forms of life on the planet. It was pathetic to think humans dared to stand above the raw power of zoanthropes, but the only way they would ever understand was to be confronted with their own inferiority by the very beasts they feared.

Zoanthropes who spoke out against the Liberation Front were pulled into the compound and overseen by Busuzima’s team. He knew what he was doing, their Alpha trusted that. In a matter of weeks their numbers skyrocketed and the process became routine, at least until certain high profile individuals were brought into the mix.

Nonomura Mitsuko would be the one zoanthrope to jam the cogs, just as she had done for Tylon before. Perhaps none of this would come to pass if Shenlong had never approached her.

It was only thanks to Busuzima’s involvement with Tylon that they knew of her identity as a zoanthrope. Her human face, caught by security cameras as she stormed down the halls of Tylon’s corporate office, and the raging boar who stampeded through their hidden laboratory to rescue someone precious.

This was a rescue too, he thought, but Mitsuko refused to see it that way. She kept her identity as a zoanthrope so hidden from prying eyes that she denied the aid of her beast form until it was all she had left to defend herself. 

Despite hiding away her wild boar for years like some shameful curse, Mitsuko’s power was undeniable. Shenlong demanded intervention from the small number of assistants he brought with, just to handle the matter quickly. Even then, Mitsuko expressed impressive resolve against being deprogrammed. It was frustrating to witness, but he supposed it would be difficult for anyone to accept that they were aiding in their own subjugation.

In time she would understand. Their Alpha trusted that, too.

What was more difficult for him to trust was loyalty. Loyalty to their cause, loyalty to their people.

Busuzima ran oversight on many different ZLF projects but was also sanctioned to work on some of his own, pending the Alpha's approval.

It was a stretch to say that Shenlong understood the nuances of every project proposal from someone like Busuzima, but at times it seemed as though the layman explanations he was given were insufficient, even incomplete. He knew that deprogramming unwilling subjects was delicate work but he was not told specifics about the process, and he understood that there were side effects involved, that some of them might resemble trauma responses, but he the extent of these effects remained a mystery.

The newest project Busuzima brought to the table was a young soldier who couldn't have been older than fifteen, a mole zoanthrope with an all too familiar name. Shenlong supposed it was inevitable to have so many ties to Tylon, considering the circumstances, but the pharmaceutical company's shadow seemed to loom over every action they took as time wore on.

“Bakuryu’s _very_ obedient,” the scientist explained with typical eccentric fervor. “He’ll be the best soldier we’ve got!”

Obedient. Was this boy trained like a house pet, too?

“Loyalty and obedience aren’t the same, doctor. Where is he from?”

“Of course, sir! You’re absolutely right. Our little Bakuryu here comes straight out of pharmaceutical hell! Tylon snatched him up as a wee youngin’ and pumped him all up to be an assassin, just like the first Bakuryu. I told you all about him, right? This kiddo’s got as much power and skill as that old fart, with plenty of room to grow! And, of course, he’s got a lot of resentment for humans on account of how they treated him in Tylon. Ain’t that right, Bakuryu?”

Busuzima’s hands sat strangely on the boy’s shoulders. The man towered over him despite the exaggerated hunch in the chameleon’s posture. He reached one hand over and delicately pat Bakuryu’s cheek, which received no response.

Bakuryu’s eyes were fixed ahead, looking not at their Alpha but through him.

For all of Busuzima’s unique proclivities, none had quite made Shenlong’s skin crawl as much as the scientist’s behavior toward this child.

Weeks passed before two zoanthropes traced Bakuryu to the compound. A wolf lead the charge; his strength would no doubt be an asset if only he would listen to reason. At first it seemed he managed to infiltrate their compound single-handed, but the rabbit who followed proved otherwise. The wolf barged in on his own, spitting accusations and vitriol. It was irritating, but surely a wolf would understand the responsibilities of an alpha.

“Why don’t you direct that anger toward your human oppressors?” Shenlong asked. His arms moved fluidly to block each of the wolf’s wild punches.

“I’m not like you. You don’t know anything about justice! You only cause suffering. You disgust me.”

He couldn’t bear such insolence, not when he had fought tooth and nail for five years straight to keep their kind safe from senseless human violence. The ungrateful mutt was silenced with his face in the dirt and a whine that sounded much more like a dog than an animal so noble.

It had been some time since an opponent drew blood. Fitting that it would be a wolf, a symbol of utmost loyalty, who managed.

The rabbit’s appearance was more of a surprise. She stood before Shenlong as he nursed his arm, deep gouges from the wolf’s claws seeping blood.

She hesitated, and for a moment so did he.

“You… Nonomura Alice.” 

He knew her. Busuzima had written up files from every zoanthrope involved with the Tylon incident he could remember. She worked at a hospital now and the sight of his bloodied arm nearly drew her to him. He wasn't sure what made her stop. Recognition fell from her face and she bristled at mention of joining the Liberation Front.

What was it about these zoanthropes that kept them clinging so desperately to humans who wanted them dead? How could the same beasts who fought against Tylon’s tyranny not see the virtue in their cause?

“I suppose you’re with that mutt who bit me,” Shenlong scoffed.

Alice looked confused, if only for a moment. “He was here? Are you the ones who kidnapped Kenji?”

That name furrowed his brows; it wasn’t familiar.

Before their conversation enlightened either of them, another voice entered the fray. This one was deeper, more commanding, and as its owner came hurtling into the open the rabbit all but scattered to get away. It didn’t matter. What did was how so many people were infiltrating this damn compound without managing to set off any alarms.

A young woman, leopard by the scent of her, seemed triumphant in confirming some false rumor about her father. Shenlong didn’t recognize her, but when they traded blows he thought he might know who her father was. 

Shenlong slammed his shoulder into the door of the observation room. Monitors sat abandoned, screens lit by security camera feeds that panned all across the compound. Everywhere he looked, their guards were down. Many lay unconscious but otherwise unharmed, others were collapsed in dark pools that spoke to the contrary.

His fist slammed against the console, the sound of which barely masked the inhuman snarl from behind his clenched fangs. Plastic keys careened from their board and littered the floor as movement from one camera caught his eye. Its monitor was dark, a shadowed figure stumbling with a clear injury. 

Whether it was an injured guard or another intruder, they must have had answers. Still, nothing could have prepared Shenlong for the monstrosity that stood before him.

A grotesque amalgamation of human form and chitinous shell, with bandages wound around it so liberally in either some hopeless attempt to hide or else to keep the wretch from falling apart. It didn’t notice him at first, not for a few moments, but when it did the creature lurched its ungainly form and hissed something almost resembling words. There was something in its tone, its drawl, that he thought he recognized.

Strong claws tore through Shenlong’s sleeve, though mercifully missed anything vital. He retaliated instantly and sent the monster staggering with a hit that would normally knock an opponent off their feet. That was all he needed to distance himself from this abomination and gather his strength for a direct strike. 

The creature collapsed to the ground, its pain from before their altercation all too apparent. Some of its bandages were already stained with a dark liquid that almost appeared green in the dim light. 

_Busuzima,_ it said. Its voice was hoarse, barely human, but Shenlong knew what he heard. 

Why did it know the scientist's name? Was it searching for him or was this another obedient wretch like Bakuryu?

Where was Busuzima? And where was Bakuryu, for that matter? 

Their most effective soldier, he had been told, and Shenlong had not seen Bakuryu throughout this entire ordeal. Everything was falling apart around him and this supposed scourge of the night was nowhere to be found.

He made one more pass to the observation room. The wolf from before was on one monitor, locked in a desperate battle with erstwhile missing the mole. His eyes flicked to the next screen, then the next. Unfamiliar figures in many of them, moving through the halls in what seemed like an uncoordinated contingent.

There was the rabbit, the leopard, that insect again, and still others he didn’t recognize.

_Where was Busuzima?_

The camera view in Busuzima’s lab changed, panning to a corner that was normally occupied by a cabinet. It was pushed to the side and beneath it was an open hatch; some secret escape route, perhaps, or maybe a panic room. It was the only area with no live camera feed, and Shenlong knew this area was not in the building's blueprints.

The room was in complete disarray, papers and files strewn about the floor, desks overturned and beakers smashed. He stormed to the open hatch and what he found beyond it set his blood on fire. This was not some cowardly scientist’s defensive bunker, not a method of escape, but another lab hidden from prying eyes. Tanks lined the walls, some housing human specimens in varying states of transformation; it was impossible to tell if they were alive or dead 

Shenlong growled as he forced his way into the laboratory. Busuzima scarcely acknowledged his presence, too busy letting his fingers fly against a computer console as though his life depended on it. The alpha’s voice was on the cusp of inhuman as he demanded answers, hinting at the tiger hiding just beneath the surface. 

The scientist laughed, pretense dropping with his sardonic tone. Shenlong detested the sound, but he loathed the look in Busuzima’s eyes when he finally turned to face him that much more. His eyes held something between condescension and annoyance, a look he often saw the man extend toward Liberation Front soldiers but never dared give to him.

While normally Busuzima’s explanations meandering as they were in the lizard's hapless attempts to entertain himself, Shenlong could typically follow the information he was given with little difficulty. What he heard now, of unsanctioned experiments and plans gone awry, sailed right over his head and it only angered him more. 

He roared, the sound of his beast form carrying through on his still-human throat. The effect fell flat as Busuzima jumped onto his chair and mimicked the volume with his own shout.

“Yeah, yeah! Mister high and mighty pissed off at his crumbling kingdom! _Shut up already!”_

Shenlong’s teeth clenched so tightly his jaw ached.

“I’m tryin’ to keep shit together here, _like I always do_ , while the Big Bad Bastard Alpha thinks he’s got everything figured out. What a joke!”

The adrenaline from before had all but seeped out of him, replaced by something cold and numb. His shoulders slacked, the grip on his injured arm fell limp. 

“How dare you-”

“-speak to you like this, your majesty?” Busuzima cackled and clapped his hands together. “That’s rich! Oh dear, magnificent leader, I’ve got news for you: You ain’t no alpha!”

The staggering confusion must have been clear on Shenlong’s face. “You bought into that role so hard when I gave it to you, but y’didn’t even stop to notice that the whole concept’s based on faulty data!?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s simple, but I’ll say it real slow _just for you._ You’re not the leader here, _you never were,_ so quit questioning me while I’m tryin’ to fix your mess!”

His heart pumped once and suddenly all of his nerves burned. He roared again, not a threat this time but a promise, as the tiger tore through him and into the open. Busuzima managed to flip his body away from the console just as Shenlong’s claws came down and crushed the chair he was perched on. 

“All that flattery really went to your head, oh glorious master!” He chortled as the tiger swung at him, every slash somehow as precise as it was wild. Shenlong’s claws always managed to stay just centimeters from contact, barely hitting cloth.

Even without transforming, the scientist moved like a reptile. Busuzima slithered and loped away from each hit, sidling up against objects that detracted from the tiger’s attacks and allowed him narrow escape with each violent swing. 

“That just makes the whole thing funnier! You’re so offended even though nothin' about you is real!”

A hard smack heralded the wet splat of blood on the floor. Busuzima crumpled and rolled, leaving a smear in his wake. He scrambled to his feet and slipped away just as a heavy paw slammed down right where his chest had been. 

Shenlong’s red eyes pierced the gloom of the lab, never losing track of the man he once trusted to run his organization’s operations. 

No… that wasn’t accurate. Trust was a strong word, too strong for his feelings toward this cretin. His discomfort toward the man was never up for debate, and yet he kept Busuzima beside him in such a high ranked position that allowed him access to all of the Liberation Front’s resources. 

Why did he ever think that was a good idea?

Busuzima’s sniveling brought Shenlong’s attention back. There was a deep gash to Busuzima’s shoulder with red patches along his neck and face from his impact with the floor. 

“It’s a real shame I gotta explain this junk now. You were a great puppet, but that brainwashing was getting harder and harder to stick.” 

His stomach dropped.

In the instant it took to process, Busuzima’s body changed. He clung to the wall and latched his tongue around Shenlong’s leg. The tiger’s back slammed against the floor, knocking the animal right out of him along with his breath. His vision swam with the dull tone in his ears. His head was pounding.

Suddenly Busuzima’s face hovered above him, upside down and human again. 

“Let me refresh your memory, if you even got any. Once upon a time, Tylon employed an assassin named Long. Then a genius named Busuzima took a cell from Long, said the magic words, and _voila!_ The leader of the Zoanthrope Liberation Front was born!” 

He laughed, eyes and mouth wide with delight. “You’re a clone of Long! A Long clone! Not a short clone, but a Long clone! Get it--”

Shenlong’s fingers wrapped around Busuzima’s throat, sending the scientist’s next laugh backwards like a gasp. He rolled, pulling Busuzima over, and slammed him to the floor just as Shenlong’s own breath returned.

“Shut up!” he bellowed, pinning the scientist beneath him. “Stop lying to me!” 

A sharp pain split into his skull, different from the constant ache that had crept in during Busuzima’s exhaustive monologue.

Shenlong’s grip on Busuzima’s throat loosened as he clutched his own temple. The moment was brief but it was enough for Busuzima to throw the tiger zoanthrope off balance and slither out from under him like a snake. He watched the scientist flee in slow motion as he curled in on himself against the floor. 

“Traitor…”

The pain in Shenlong’s head dulled but refused to leave. It lifted only enough to let him pull clumsily to his feet. His chest heaved with the exertion of simply keeping himself upright, and each step toward the entrance of the hidden lab was agony. He pulled himself up the small set of stairs, back into the main laboratory he once thought was their only experimental facility.

Busuzima had disappeared, but a new voice behind him sent Shenlong staggering forward.

“You’re a pathetic clone. There’s no turning back now.” 

A large man with a scar over one eye. He seemed familiar but the throbbing in his head made it difficult to place him. He tried to recall the man’s face, where he knew him from, but the pain flared and sent Shenlong to his knees.

“Stop trying to confuse me!”

“Answer me this: Do you have a past?”

He stood there so smugly, looking down on him with that one blue eye. It didn’t matter who he was; in that moment, Shenlong hated him and wanted to rip out that one good eye to match.

“What kind of stupid question is that? There’s nothing wrong with my memory.” 

Shenlong faltered. _If you even got any._ He tried to think, despite himself. Pain was his only answer.

“Why do you think all-out investigations by government officials the world over have failed to uncover any positive data about the ZLF’s leader?” 

_Stop it._

“I’ll tell you why.”

_Don’t._

“It’s because you didn’t even exist before the inception of the Zoanthrope Liberation Front.”

“You’re lying!” was all Shenlong could muster as his throat grew hoarse. It felt like there was a swarm of insects thrashing in his skull and a new one broke free with every word this man spoke. 

“Whatever memories you may have were created and planted there by Busuzima. I even know the person you were cloned from… the _original you_ , you could say.”

Did he even have any memories? Why couldn’t he remember? _Hadn’t he ever stopped to think?_

The incessant buzzing of flies in his head would have been enough of a pain on its own, but every time he tried to clear his thoughts the flies attempted to burrow into his brain. The man was still talking - _why wouldn’t he stop?_ \- and it was all Shenlong could do to keep his mind from being completely devoured.

Whatever happened felt like a blink. His mind was quieter now, growing more still with every breath. 

Shenlong was on the floor again and it took a moment to peel himself away. His clothes were soaked with sweat and blood. For a second he thought he lost sight in one eye, before he realized his hair had fallen into disarray. 

He glanced over his shoulder at the blond man who lay dead _(no, he was breathing)_ some yards from him. He remembered now, the lion from Tylon. 

It was hard to place just how long he sat there, reveling in this sudden recognition and clarity, when the distant sound of encroaching footsteps reached his ears. They paused outside of the room and Shenlong pulled himself to his feet just in time to face them as a shadow of the proud Alpha he had been mere hours ago.

“I’ll take it from here, Uriko. Go find your mother.”

Uriko… He knew that name from Tylon’s records, too, but the details were fuzzy. She was gone well before he could offer her any consideration.

It was for the best, given who stood before him now.

Shenlong wasn’t sure what he had expected with all of this clone talk. It wasn’t quite like looking in a mirror, not completely; their body and facial structure was the same, he could tell, but their countenance could not have been more disparate. 

He glared at his doppelganger as he struggled to stand upright. The man’s eyes darkened and Shenlong almost wanted to smile. 

Whether he was a clone or not only mattered if both of them existed in the same moment; if only he were rid of this man, then his identity would never be called into question again. This was providence. The obstacle before him was not another person but an opportunity: the chance to liberate himself by killing this lie outright.

Without hesitation Shenlong revealed his stripes and the imposter followed suit. Both tigers lunged for each other, but the Maltese aimed his claws for the throat and only afforded the Siberian a second to pull away. Harming this man was the only thing Shenlong cared about, and each miss of his claws or hollow snap of his jaws urged him into a deeper frenzy. Shenlong may have started the fight looking much worse for wear but the moments were fleeting before Long was as damaged as him.

This game of chicken continued, leading the duo further away from the unconscious lion zoanthrope until both men had lost track of their location. The pursuit of his counterpart was so dogged and single-minded that he hardly smelled the change in the air. Lights flickered then shut off as the emergency power activated, which cast their makeshift arena in an eerie orange glow. Alarms concerning intruders had long since been disabled, by Busuzima no doubt, but a new alarm suddenly rang out through the building. 

It was dull, muted by the cacophony around them, but through his double’s roars Shenlong heard... confusion, maybe, or perhaps concern. Pathetic that he thought the only way out of this situation was to try and trick him. 

_Just like everyone else today._

In that moment Long faltered and Shenlong pounced. Steely jaws clutched the orange tiger’s shoulder with the momentum and sent him hurtling against the nearest wall. The force of the throw dented the material and Long’s form shifted as he collapsed to the floor, human again.

He could see Long’s arms tremble, struggle to lift his weight. Each step forward that Shenlong took renewed understanding of his own power, reminded him of why he had earned that title in the first place. _Alpha._

Monstrous paws gripped Long’s shoulders and lifted the man to his feet, only to slam him back against the wall. Shenlong dropped his imposter unceremoniously, then allowed his own beast form to fall away. 

Long was dazed, kneeled before him in a growing pool of his own blood. Exactly as it should have been. 

His fingers looped into the low neck of Long’s shirt. “I could never be the clone of a useless weakling like you.”

“You are powerful…” Long shuddered past his winded lungs. “...I almost envy you.”

His jaw clenched. _Almost?_

He was the leader of the Liberation Front, unparalleled in strength and skill! His cause was just, his power supreme! And this bastard had the gall to deny him envy.

“You have done what I could not… You have completely purged yourself of the very things that are my weaknesses… Painful memories and a loathing of the zoanthrope blood in my veins.”

“Then we know who’s superior!” Shenlong reared back, readying for one final blow. "I’ll kill you here and end this."

“Do as you wish. That would be a fitting end to an accursed life...” 

Ice filled his veins and the fire in his lungs turned to smoke.

Shenlong couldn’t move. The muscles in his arm, so ready to strike, were locked and trembling. Golden eyes met red, shadowed beneath a brow twisted in conflict. 

Standing here, holding the very embodiment of all his grief at the mercy of his claws, felt hollow. Superior. Unparalleled. Every word used to describe his prowess echoed in that moment, now rendered meaningless. He was the leader of the Zoanthrope Liberation Front, the most powerful leader these beasts had ever seen, but for all his efforts, all he had accomplished, it all came crashing down in a single day.

Purged himself of painful memories? _What a joke._ He never had any to begin with.

There was nothing but vague recollections of a life beyond the Liberation Front that he never put stock in because they held no importance toward his goals. Now it was clear he never paid them any mind because they were hardly there in the first place, mere whispers of a possible past intended only to keep him from growing suspicious - and dammit, it worked so well.

He felt sick. The same sort of sick which motivated him all those years ago now locked him in place as he doubted every action he had ever made.

Whenever his scruples made some feeble attempt to fight back he would tell himself, over and over, that he was justified. The number of times he swallowed the churning bile of guilt in favor of pride were too many to count, _but he was justified._ That was why he was worthy of being a leader. He had earned that position. He had earned that title and the respect of his fellow beasts.

How wrong he was all this time might have been funny, if he had really been in control at all.

Though he knew there was a line separating himself from the scientist's manipulation, that line was still invisible to him. He could never know what decisions he made during the past five years were truly his own, what mistakes he was personally responsible for.

If none of this had come to pass, Shenlong wondered if he would have allowed Busuzima to keep pulling his strings forever.

“Why do you hesitate…?” Long’s voice sounded especially weak under the blare of his thoughts.

Perhaps the alarms weren’t helping matters, either.

"You're a fool... You think your memories have made you weak?"

Shenlong was powerful, he was cunning, but he had never surpassed anyone - not when he was unencumbered by weights that pulled everyone else down. Someone like him, an incomplete facsimile with no memories to call his own, could never hope to transcend the limits imposed by carrying such heavy burdens. Without that weight, his victories were meaningless.

He had an unfair advantage from the start.

"They're what makes you whole. How could I ever come close when all I have are _scraps?_ ” 

Finally his arm moved, fast as a bullet. Long flinched but the strike was not for him. Shenlong’s knuckles collided harshly with the concrete wall behind the man's head, cracks spider webbing from the impact. 

His grip on Long’s shirt loosened. Shenlong allowed the man to drop as he stepped away, one clumsy backward motion after the next. 

Perfection was an illusion, a false narrative spoon fed to an inflated ego, yet without it his entire world shattered. He was never an Alpha; he was Omega at best. He was never a leader, only a puppet. He could transcend nothing; he was incomplete. All this time he had been lied to and he believed it without question. What did that prove, if not weakness?

And now, without that illusion to fall back on, how could he ever hope to justify his own existence? _He had never even earned the right to live._

Pain flared in his chest. His own claws sunk deep into his flesh, and his body had grown so cold that his blood flowed out like magma.

He heard Long’s voice, some distant question or protest, but the noise was drowned out as as the sharp pain in his head returned as though it finally caught up with the rest of him that already felt destroyed. Rising heat licked at his skin but his vision was faded and everything sounded miles away, like he was falling down a tunnel. 

All it took was one single day and everything he ever valued, ever relied on, ever believed in, everything that mattered to him in the world, was now burning away in a sea of flames. 

This was for the best, he thought. All the better that he burn up with it and perish as much a phantom as he lived. 

It was a strange sensation, then, for his arm to stretch against his will.

He lacked the strength to move but his arms lifted, along with the rest of him. His entire body ached, his senses strangely numb and agitated all at once. The heat engulfing him began to subside on its own and for a moment it almost felt as if he were floating.

Shenlong’s eyes opened briefly, closed, opened, then closed again. 

The first time he caught only the curtain of night overhead and he thought, just maybe, the roof had managed to burn around him without caving in. The second time he was surrounded by white walls, the only sound a dull rhythmic beep that echoed in his deep in chest.

He wanted to laugh.

_Damn. You can’t even die right._


End file.
